Ambition
by JadeWerewolf
Summary: Percy looks back on his life from a lonely little cell in Azkaban.


Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that I cannot give myself credit for this fic. The plot belongs to my gracious sister Stephanie! And HP belongs to Ms. Rowling!  
  
Ambition  
  
For a while, I was purposefully lost and wandering in shadows darker and deeper than the ones that I have created. Darker and deeper than the ones inside myself. You never would have thought that a Weasley would go Dark. But I've always been the goddamn ambitious one. And the power that was offered was amazingly seductive. Unfortunately, the things that I did have taken their toll on me. I don't sleep anymore. If I sleep I'll dream. Dream of the innocent people that I've slaughtered. Of their faces. I'll dream of the Dark Lord and his high, cold, menacing voice.  
  
When I received the Dark Mark, it hurt like hell but I thought the skull with snake coming out of its mouth was wonderful. I thought that I was on the winning side, the powerful side. I thought I would excel and be someone. And finally earn the respect I deserved. But how wrong I was. I was young and foolish enough to not know the difference between fear and respect. Voldemort's name could only instill fear. It could not earn me any respect. Which was what I wanted.  
  
Now, I'm looking back and realizing that my life will never be the same. I couldn't go back to my family. They wouldn't hide me. So, I knew what I had to do. In front of all of the Wizengamot, I told all I knew of Voldemort's movements. And all I knew of the people who were DeathEaters. And after having done a little good, they took me to Azkaban. And now, I am here. Alone. Completely and utterly alone. More alone than when I was friendless and bossy at Hogwarts. More alone than I have ever been in my life. And all because I was ambitious.  
  
My mother was so proud of me because of my ambition. I wanted to be Minister of Magic. A place of power was perfect for me. And when my very small, insignificant job at the Ministry wasn't going to get me anywhere, Macnair, A DeathEater and a Ministry employee, showed me the Dark Side. My place of "power". How could I have been so stupid!? But now I see what I've done and I don't want to live with that. I hate the guilt. I hate what I've become. But the hatred really helped me become a master at the Unforgivable Curses. Perfect Percy fucked up, big time.  
  
And not only did I fuck up my life, I fucked up my family's life (a true Weasley would never have gone Dark and they were more shocked than anyone), Penny's life and Serena's life. Penny and I were going to get married. But I became cruel and withdrawn. She cancelled the engagement. She was very hurt. And Serena had trusted me with her life. Even when I was a DeathEater. She didn't know that though. She kept me safe when I was scared. Warm when I was cold. Comfort when I needed it. But one of the things I had to do to prove my loyalty to the Dark Lord was to harm someone who I cared about. My family (thank God) was heavily protected but Serena wasn't. She was practically my family though.  
  
She was chosen. I told her that there was an animal wounded in the forest. So she came out and goddammit, she followed me to where the DeathEaters were waiting. They stunned her and I preformed that damn curse. I won't ever let any of the names of those Curses past my lips again. But as I watched her, writhing in pain, I realized that I was wrong. A party of the Order of the Phoenix rescued her that night. And I am still very thankful for them. We all fled but I watched as Lupin carried limp body of another werewolf away. And as he lifted her from the ground, he looked straight at me.  
  
I'm not sure whether he recognized me or not. If he did, he knows me very well. I wasn't wearing the Hood of a DeathEater. I didn't have my horn-rimmed glasses. I have contact lenses. And I dyed my hair black, but the spell went wrong and now my hair is growing out black. I don't know the counter curse. But my face was and still is gaunt and hollow. I'm much too thin. My voice is hoarse from not using it and empty because its reflecting what's left in me. My hair has grown down below my shoulders. And I'm very pale, due to the fact that I haven't seen the sun in weeks. Months even. But I have no interest in that anymore. I don't want to be in the light. If I am in the light, then I'll have to see what I've become. My only interest is my dark little cell in this prison. This torture chamber that is going to rob me of all happiness (not that I have much) for three more years.  
  
I still feel the Dark Mark burn. And I know he's calling his DeathEaters. And when I do feel it burn, I claw at it until it bleeds and when it heals, the mark is set anew. Every time I think I've lost it. How fucking stupid could have been to get it in the first place.  
  
I miss my old life. Back when I was Headboy at Hogwarts. Or Bighead boy to Fred and George. But I miss them a lot. My brothers. My parents. And Ginny. What I've done probably hurts them more than it hurts me. All I ever wanted was to protect them from anything and everything dark. Even Bill and Charlie, who were older than I. I hate myself for letting them down and becoming Dark. I had a wonderful life ahead of me, too. Engaged. Happy. But the lies about what Voldemort could do for me! I wanted it. In an instant, I had it. And in that instant I might as well have died.  
  
I embraced the pain when they asked me to slice open my wrist and give blood to the Dark Lord. I gladly helped in torturing thirty-two people into insanity. And happily murdered twenty-seven people myself. I am the most moronic, stupid, low life, horrible, creature I know! I don't even deserve to be called a man I am so low and filthy!  
  
Somewhere, I knew everything Dark was a lie. The power. The glory. There's no glory in killing innocence. And murdering Muggles and half-bloods is not helping the Wizarding world. I knew I wouldn't be happy. Somewhere inside, maybe you'd find it if you look deep, deeper, and deeper still, I knew I'd regret it all. But I'm Prefect Percy the Fuck-Up, right? absolutely.  
  
I also knew the my family would never be able to forgive me. Mum, Dad, Fred, George and Ginny haven't spoken to me. Bill and Charlie sent letters about angry they were with me. But Ron seemed to want to forgive me and thought that my family would too. His letter read:   
  
"Dear, Percy, I'll forgive you for whatever you did. The others won't admit it but they will to. I miss you. When You're out of prison, please come home. Things aren't the same without you. Love, Ron."  
  
Oh, how he didn't understand! I wrote on the back, "Ron, Perciville Weasley is dead. Don't think of him anymore." And it was true. I was dead. Inside and to myself. But since then I haven't heard from my family. I don't blame them.  
  
Ambition was my downfall, in the end. And in my little dark cell, the only ambition I have now is to die. If these walls can drive me mad and kill me in the three years I have left here, it would be merciful.   
  
The End. 


End file.
